


this love came back to me

by Mariss95



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season/Series 03, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariss95/pseuds/Mariss95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s as if a dam has been broken.<br/>Terrifying, exhilarating, inevitable, unstoppable.</p><p>[What if Oliver came back from Nanda Parbat at the sign of Felicity being in danger]</p>
            </blockquote>





	this love came back to me

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first M rated fic.  
> I started writing it before The Climb, since its trailer inspired in me the idea of Oliver joining the League of Assassins in order to free his loved ones and his city from Ra’s hold. From there the Olicity reunion after his extended time away jumped forth and wouldn’t leave me alone. (funnily enough it turned out to be kind of prophetic on the LOA front lol)
> 
> After many fights with myself over the quality of this, I finally powered through, thanks to the cheer and support of some wonderful friends (ILY all!). Special shout-out to Jules for her messages and love!
> 
> Please let me know if it’s not total crap (or if it is, but kindly please).  
> Without further ado, here’s the story. *hides away*

 

The city rumbles around them, thunderstorm beginning to crack on the distance like mirroring his unstable state. 

Darkness fills the silence in the alleyway, the single light bulb that has survived the onslaught swaying back and forth, its cold light barely shinning on them. 

Yet he knows she has seen him.

It gives him comfort to know their uncanny connection remains, like a well-practiced dance, her knowing the second he is there. It has been a second too late, or weeks if you asked her.

But here he is.

The two members of the League that had been sent her way lie dead on the ground, like shadows of what he’s had to become, more demons stacking up on his chest.

A gasp leaves her lips, yet it’s different from the one she released upon being blind-sided by the attack. It’s the clear, unmistakable sound of recognition; relief mixed with shock, he can tell.

“ _Oliver?_ ,” she voices next, her words a trembled whisper that wouldn’t have been heard were he not so acutely focused on her every breath.

The hard knot that’s been clogging his throat from the moment he left Starling City months before loosens at the sound; so familiar yet the thing of fantasies from all this time away.

She pushes onto the floor to stand up on shaky legs, knees grazed and reddened from the struggle.

She had been putting up a fight.

Pride warms his chest, a faraway memory of a smiling compliment being voiced in the foundry at her fearless behavior flashing before clouded eyes. Soon enough that thought gets buried to the back of his mind as she takes a hesitant step forward, his name leaving past her lips again like a prayer.

Emotions dance in her darkened eyes, tentative tears glazing her vision as she studies him. With deliberate movements he anchors in the spot and turns to face her fully, a heavy hand coming up to pull the coal-colored hood back.

Her strangled gasp fills the air next, making it clear she sees the change in his face. The tired lines, darkened circles and barely healed scars; but most of all, the hollow look in his eyes, and how they warm as they finally meet hers.

Once ocean blue, the depths that always showed her his truth seem dark and haunted now, fear and apprehension pulling at the corner of his lids, mirroring the thin line that is his mouth.

It takes a full minute before she takes another step forward, cherry lips parting and closing countless times without a single thought coming out.

He fights the same urge, heartfelt apologies and useless explanations dying on dried lips due to cowardice. Instead he waits, knowing it’d be wiser to go, let her be again.

Heels softly click on the pavement as she makes her way over; hesitant yet deliberate. She halts less than a foot away, a hand lifting and hanging on the space between them as a battle of emotions breaks out again in her deep gaze.

Anger, relief, sorrow.

Breaths come deeper by the second, as a trembling feeling goes through her body like a current. His eyelids drop, an apology tickling his tongue once he sees a sudden movement, expecting the upcoming sting of her hand to his cheek.

That’s when it happens.

Not a flash of pain, but a firm pressure to his lips, soft yet powerful as she lunges forward onto him. 

Hardly ever is Oliver Queen taken by surprise, yet once again Felicity Smoak proves to be the exception.

He remains dead still, body taut with pent-up energy as her lips recapture his. An arm leaves its place on his chest to tightly grip onto his arm. Next she’s propelling upwards, the once gentle touch of her mouth over his growing stronger, demanding, almost like a silent prayer for more, for any proof that he’s still there, alive, loving, _hers_.

A swipe of her tongue over his bottom lip finally does the trick. 

Like jolted back to life, he takes a step forward, erasing any space left between them, lips parting answering her silent calling.

Time and space fades as he gives into her touch, a hand coming up to lightly cup her face, another taking hold of her waist, drawing her closer still.

His mouth engulfs hers, not a matter of wills anymore, but an exhilarating dance and, unlike their first kiss, this one tastes anything but goodbye.

His lungs burn with need so they part at last, harsh breaths filling the air, echoing the turmoil of their wildly beating hearts.

She’s only a hair away, lips grazing his with every intake of breath as he tries and fails to clear his fogged mind. 

They shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t even be here.

Four blue eyes remain closed, as if afraid it’s all a figment of their imagination, a fickle yet all too real dream.

It’s been so long, both in the cold; even before the distance grew between them, they were miles away from hope, from _this_.

Then she draws her breath noticeably, a puff of air ghosting over heated skin. Heart hammering in his ears, he knows it’s time, for the expected strike of anger or the hellish goodbye.

He shifts his weight, the hand on her face wavering with uncertainty as his eyes once more meet hers.

Breath leaves his parted lips in a whoosh at the sight.

Swollen lips and darkened eyes, a faint blush on pale skin: she’s the thing of daydreams.

The current of desire that runs through him next is neither unexpected nor foreign, yet unlike other times the tight leash around said feeling is stretched out and giving in.

It’s a mixture of the battling emotions reflected in her deep gaze, and the way the palm still on his chest smoothes upwards to trace the line of stubble across his jaw. The fact her sight keeps shifting from his penetrating stare to his parted lips, her delightful tongue tracing a course on her own mouth he’d be more than happy to follow. Or maybe the death-like grip she has on his left arm, the one that anchors her movement, once she takes a final deep breath that could very well be translated to ‘ _I give up fighting this_ ’, to close once again that damn distance between them.

All he knows is that this time when she kisses him, _he can’t hold back_. And as his tongue takes her cue and envelops hers, there’s undoubtedly no going back.

It’s as if a dam has been broken.

Terrifying, exhilarating, inevitable, _unstoppable_. 

The moment three years in the making hits them like thunderstorm, alike the one that’s threatening their city tonight. 

A pressing touch follows another as she has him in a trance, every single reason why they shouldn’t be doing this fleeing his mind one touch of her lips at the time.

She’s everywhere and yet it’s not enough. Addictive scent, feel, under terribly constricted hands as his gloves remain on.

For every ounce of fear for the consequences there’s a gallon of passion and desperation for more, suppressed emotions outpouring through rough lips and hurried touches; slanting, pulling, asking and giving relentlessly.

He’s faintly aware of the rain staring to pour down on them, its effect paling against the pull they have with each other.

It’s not until Felicity shivers and pulls him closer, cold related or else, that his body responds with more.

More pressure on smudged lips, leaving them with a grunt to explore the skin below. More strength on his hold of her, hand by her waist anchoring her closer until her feet barely toe the ground. More rumbling in his chest as her touch travels to the back of his head, bringing him afire. 

Her breathless moaning of his name tears the final thread of restraint.

He’s lifting her from the ground next, ample hands taking hold of the back of her tights as he stomps towards the alleyway door.

Deft fingers rapidly deal with the key code, attention barely drifting from her everything as hers rack over the crown of his head, desperate mouths etching back together once she finds a sensitive spot. 

As if it’s been too long apart (which it has, yet not like this) a sigh of relief, of contentment leaves her, being muffled by chapped lips yet understood and reciprocated if the tightening of his hold is any indication.

It all blurs out once she starts moving against him in just the best of ways; a swivel of her hips down onto his, a needed pressure. They’re down the stairs and walking across the foundry in a second.

All traces of carefulness and precision flies out the window as a rhythm is set, of grunts, mewls and rubbing against each other. He crashes onto a table and her chair on the way over -to where he’s not sure-, swallowing her smile at his clumsiness.

Finally he finds purchase on the training station, her back hitting a wide column for further support -not that he really needs it, but damn if he rather occupy his hands otherwise than just holding her up-.

Rough seems to be their default, desperation from years of pent-up tension driving them forward, unhinged.

A break only happens once the need for air becomes too strong, pants filling the space smacking lips just did. He wastes no time though, as the expanse of her neck comes into view; roughened lips exploring every inch of her heavenly skin as colored nails pull at the strands of his cropped hair, his name leaving her in a breathy whisper.

His tongue darts out to lave her marked skin, reddened by his assault; as if he needed another reason to want this, to want _her_.

Tenderness soon gives way to something else once she directs his hands from her sides to where her shirt’s tucked in her skirt. 

No words needed, as usual.

He tugs it free and over her head, pausing just long enough to look up and meet her heated gaze, before latching back onto her.

Predatory lips battle once again, as she finds his faux-hood’s zipper and frees him of its hold. He feels more like her Oliver with each passing move, as if she’s welcoming him home; shredding every trace of this time away, one piece of cloth at the time, until it’s just pure him against her.

Neither bothers to stop and think how home is neither a right-colored hood or a dank basement.

He’s crushing her against the stone, wound up on her taste, on her touch on his lower back, the maddening way she traces every line with her careful touch, like marking him all over again, in the best of ways.

She swallows his grunt in response as he busies himself pulling at the few barriers between them. A groan of her own leaves her once he strays to her neck and lower, tempted by the newly revealed skin, glowing with the dim light of his training station. 

He pauses at the top of her breasts, still clad in her pale blue bra. The rapid up and down of her chest slows him down for a moment, letting her catch her breath; long enough for reason to start slowly creeping into his mind, and with it the danger he’s putting her in by being here, by doing this.

It’s her hand cradling the back of his head, and lifting his gaze to meet hers that brings him back to that moment, away from the fears and shadows that constantly threaten to pull him away.

There’s a faint glimmer of caution in her eyes, sensing his hesitation, foreshadowing his stepping back, once again. Yet there’s also the shared understanding that there’s nothing he can do now to shield her away from anything really.

For a moment he thinks this is it, that he has unintentionally pulled the breaks on this; and he hates himself for it.

But then the hand on his neck is pulling him closer, guiding him back to her chest and the delicious trail he had been been leaving with his lips, and he’s back down the rabbit hole, falling freely and willingly.

He swivels along the lines of her cleavage as his hands cover every inch of her back, still mildly damp from the downpour yet so smooth and gentle under his calloused fingers. She shivers slightly at the sensation and arches into him, her nails racking his nape in approval.

That’s all it takes. 

With a flick of his fingers the hook’s undone and his touch travels upwards, over her back and sun-kissed shoulders, under the strands and down her arms.

The bra falls on the floor forgotten as Oliver finds himself pausing again, taking her in.

She’s breathless and whimpering against him, hair disheveled from his kisses and skin reddened by his pass down her body. And now with an impatient move of her hips and a tug on his hair, she’s all skin and roundness against him, her chest against his in a newfound form of heavenly torture that makes him curse out loud and latch back onto her lips with a fiery passion.

Once again breathless he tears away from her mouth, the thing of fantasies and countless memories, and lowers his lips to met the tender flesh of her chest, gently kissing and nibbling each inch of newly revealed skin. Just when it’s all memorized and Felicity’s writhing in his arms he takes a nipple in his mouth, practically growling against her skin when she moans in approval and rolls her lower body enthusiastically against his. 

Her lips fall to his shoulders to nib a path of her own, building the fiery heat coursing his veins     until he’s burning up. The hand on her thigh kneads the flesh upwards until he’s cupping her ass, an action he’s longed to do for far too long.

It feels even better than he’d imagined.

Especially when Felicity responds in kind and pulls his mouth back to hers, asking and _needing_ much more.

“ _Oliver..._ ”

It’s just a word. Yet when it’s gasped with their breaths mingling, and the heat of their skin joined as one, it says everything.

It’s a plea and a question. An unspoken statement that this is going to change everything, yet it’s desperately wanted. A gentle push forward he’s not willing or even remotely thinking of fighting back. A final test of his conviction to really do this, _them_ , as they’d so desperately wanted to before; yet failed to accomplish due to his backing out.

Oliver finally nods against her, seeing the ghost of a smile on her parted lips before they rejoin his in his new favorite game.

Gone is any last sliver of doubt or fear this isn’t right or will be soon followed by yet another fall-out. 

As he retakes hold of Felicity’s unrelenting hips and pushes them away from the column, starting the exhilarating walk through the foundry to his old cot, there’s not a cell in Oliver’s body that fights this anymore.

Instead he meets every swivel of her hips with a tug of his own, palms on her warmed skin tracing paths up and down and forward. Lowering her on the bed and swiftly covering it with his own body, unwilling to go a second without her touch.

His tongue teases her own, then he’s nibbling at her lower lip when Felicity surprises him raking her nails over the tender flesh of his ass, bringing him closer.

Friction builds up as their pants mingle in a desperate frenzy for more. His warm hands purposely knead his way south, to the last scrape of fabric that keeps them apart.

When he’d imagined them being together, he’d planned on taking his time, maddening her with gentle touches and teasing strokes until she felt branded by his touch.

Now though, as his fingers trace down, then in and up her thigh, where her arousal and silent urging awaits him, all planning and caution fly away to give place to instinct and the long forgotten pleasure of giving in.

Growling into her mouth he tears her underwear off her body, proud of the gasp she lets out and the way she claws into his back with eagerness.

Once bare before him, Oliver’s left breathless by the sight.

_God, he loves this woman._

His sight is entranced by her. With every intake of breath her small breasts brush against his chest, eliciting goosebumps on the naked skin of his back. And once her eyes lock with his again, he’s mesmerized by the need swarming in them, and by the enticing and very-Felicity way her lips curve upwards in a bright smile. 

Full of hope, of love, unbridled and profound.

He barely strays his gaze from hers while he absently searches the cabinet on his left for a condom, deftly readying himself.

“Fuck,” he mutters when her thighs enclose his waist, her hands taking purchase of his hair and bringing his lips back to hers. 

She kisses him deep and long, conveying every word they’ve failed to voice so far. Her touch brings him closer, closer until every inch of him is deliciously pressed against her, brushing and teasing until their lips part again and he places himself between her.

Blue meets blue as they fully surrender.

Her eyes bulge with every inch he goes into her, their gasps mingling and evolving into moans with the blissful feel of finally being one.

He lingers at the end, a precious moment as her mouth morphs back into a smile he so gladly mirrors. 

“ _Fucking finally!_ ,” she curses with joy, and their breathy chuckles follow.

It’s a moment so purely Felicity his chest fills with joy. 

With just a roll of his hips the intensity returns, his mouth engulfing hers as he gently pulls out then back again into her warmth, making them both gasp and grasp each other.

A rhythm is set as their hands take great care of memorizing every path discovered.

Deft fingers over marred skin and down the slope of his spine to take hold of his behind, eliciting grunts in approval and a break of pace that leaves her panting.

Expert touch down her sides, over her taut stomach and south, as she writhes over sensitive spots he files away for further exploration. He finds his own way then to her ass, kneading and pulling her closer, along with every plunge and swivel of his hips. 

The fire that had broken out in his veins at the mere sight of her in his arms is now blazing and overpowering every other sense.

Felicity is asking and giving with every move, heels anchored on his lower back, as plump lips alternate between moaning her appraisal of his every move and nipping then soothing the thick column of his neck.

The push and pull is beyond words. Overwhelming pleasure, senses overridden by the sheer perfection of this moment.

His pace picks up as she chants his name time and again, nails racking sensitive skin that now it’s marked as hers.

“O... Oliver,” she mumbles as his touch wanders between her thighs again, commending his talent with a change of angle and quickening pace of her own, effectively drowning his moans of pleasure in the confines of her mouth.

She’s pulsing around and beneath him, and thank god because he is deliriously close to the edge and dying to let go.

Tearing swollen lips from hers, he smiles at her whimper due to the loss of that one solely contact and makes it up by pressing himself further onto her, relishing in the feel of her back arching closer still, nipples deliciously rasping his skin.

“Felicity-” he grits as she urges him further in with every move, a sole throaty ‘ _yes_ ’ leaving her lips and very nearly pulling him over the edge.

“Look at me.”

His voices comes horse as he reigns himself in, waiting until her eyelids flutter open and that deep blue shade of hers is meeting his own; hypnotizing, exhilarating, heady. 

He thrust in once again and smirks in delight as her mouth parts giving breath to a final carnal moan of her release.

The thumb flickering over her sensitive nerves quickens at the sight, his hips pounding furiously as she rides the tidal wave of her orgasm, toppling him over finally with the urgent scratch of her nails to his neck and throbbing erratically all around him.

He screams her name, unleashing his all.

Harsh breaths crowd the newfound silence as he falls on her, careful to keep his weight even and on his forearms. It doesn’t take long for his hands to stray to her skin again, caressing her sides with the tenderness of before, as they regain their breaths.

The descent is slow yet thrilling in its own, because now as he pulls slightly back to see her face again, there’s a whole new world over that edge.

Her eyes are closed, so he takes his time tracing her features with his own eyes. 

The smooth, frown-free skin of her forehead, down her button nose and parted lips, still sinfully swollen and slightly red. The similar shade on her cheeks that expands far south to her still heaving chest, which brushes against his warm one with each breath taken, making his own hitch in response.

“Oliver,” she breathes halting his journey of her skin.

Deep blue resides in her gaze now, fogged with passion yet showing so much more. A pure smile tugs at the corner of her lips as her delicate hand leaves its hold on his neck to caress his jaw over the shade of stubble there. 

He watches her take a steadying breath before her lips part once again, this time giving voice to his new three favorite words.

_I love you._

There’s tenderness and little hesitation in her tone. Reassurance and emotion enlaced in three heavenly syllables that enclose everything he’ll ever need.

On a dank foundry, enclosed in known shadows with flickering traces of light, he lets himself fall freely once and for all, _for_ and _with_ her; knowing this fall into the unknown is the best and the last one he’ll ever have.

 

**Author's Note:**

> _Thank you so much for reading!!_
> 
>  
> 
> This piece was a stretch from what I usually write. I tried to find a balance between what and how I'd feel comfortable writing -my newly found boundaries- and the built up and resolution I felt this story needed and led to.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Either way, I'd love to know your opinion, what could be better, if something was bothersome, or commendable; whatever crossed your mind. Just a few words make my day :)
> 
> xo, Lucy


End file.
